


This Love

by truth-be-told-im-lying (keeperofthefour)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Mental Health Issues, Sad, Suicide, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27723728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofthefour/pseuds/truth-be-told-im-lying
Summary: On the surface, they seemed like the perfect couple. Bright and bubbly in public, Rika was intensely different behind closed doors. As much as he longed for his love to be enough to heal her, it simply wasn’t realistic. What happens in the aftermath of her most reckless decision yet?
Relationships: Rika/V | Kim Jihyun
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	This Love

It wasn’t always hard.

In fact, there was a time early on in their relationship when everything seemed wonderful. Ideal. Perfect. Bright and warm, just like the sun and equally intense, their love was something to be revered. They did everything together, and everyone around them felt their devotion, their absolute infatuation with each other. It wasn’t necessarily in the way they physically touched one another, but looking at them, one could see that their hearts and souls were intertwined. One melding into the other, they were a unit. Though they were unmarried, they were one. Rika’s smile cast an ethereal glow upon Jihyun’s face; though his general countenance was melancholy on a good day, he seemed to lighten in her presence. Her airy laughter, his quiet chuckles, fingers laced together over a cafe table as they shared some whispered secret between them over steaming cups of coffee. 

They dated, just as any young couple their age would (and should). There were long, romantic walks through the park. Art galleries and museums and small-stage productions to be seen while they held hands in a darkened auditorium. There were tender explorations of one another in the most intimate sense, both of them unsure and nervous and enthralled with the sensations they created between them, for each other. Promises were made. Words of love were spoken against flushed skin; talk of endless tomorrows together and plans for their future jotted down in a memory book, filled with snapshots and anecdotes of their dreams, their days, their lives. 

As time wore on, though, things began to unravel. The small disagreements turned into big fights, major misunderstandings. Rika’s needs for validation and attention far outweighed Jihyun’s capacity to give, though it was all he wanted to do. He wanted to be the source of her happiness more than anything else in the world. Convinced that Rika’s well-being was his life’s purpose, he bent and twisted himself into whatever she wanted him to be. If she asked for space, he gave her space. If she wanted him close, he was right there as soon as she said the word. Quite literally at her beck and call, Jihyun forgot himself in the process. Every move he made was for her. Everything he did was for Rika’s benefit. 

He found himself drained; a shell of the young man he once was. Three years of trying to cater to her, trying to satisfy her every whim, and he was just worn down. Exhausted. 

Art was his only retreat. Either his home studio or his gallery is where he would hide, angry strokes on canvas the only sound besides his labored breathing as he attempted to paint the hurt out of his heart. Even his photography changed and became darker, both in exposure and subject matter. His clients expressed their concern but continued to support his work. 

But no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough. The more he gave, the more she demanded. She grew volatile, violent. Her mood swings became completely unpredictable, and Jihyun found himself at a loss.   
“Rika, tell me what I’ve done wrong. I promise I’ll fix it,” he pleaded again. He was on his knees in front of her as she curled into the sofa in their living room, sobbing hysterically. He reached out to cup his hand over her knee, but she swatted him away.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “You have no idea what I’m going through! No idea what this darkness does to me!” Her voice rose in volume and intensity with each syllable until she was screaming in his face, green eyes wild and rimmed with red from the tears she cried. She cried until her eyes were raw and irritated, until she could barely see his pleading face. She cried until her muscles ached and her cheeks were stained with tears. Until her voice was nothing but a rasping, ragged whisper, shoulders heaving with shallow breath.

He sighed and leaned back against the lounge chair behind him, head in his hands. “I’m trying to understand, but you won’t allow it. Please, Rika.” He looked at her with a certain longing, a particular sadness that he felt as a tightening in his chest. He longed to reach out to her and pull her into his embrace, to erase all of her doubt and fear. “Please. Explain to me.”

She stood suddenly and ran toward the front door. Jihyun was on his feet in seconds, racing after her. When he caught her wrist, she cried out and struck his cheek with the flat of her palm. The impact was solid, painful, and resonated throughout the small space between them. Fire blazed in her eyes; a challenge, a threat. “I’ve explained it to you so many fucking times, Jihyun. And you still don’t GET IT! I’m not going to waste any more of my breath because you’re obviously too dense to understand!” She turned and wrenched the door open and ran– barefoot in her white nightgown– into the darkness. 

“Wait! Rika, stop!” Jihyun called after her, helpless. He slipped on a pair of shoes and shrugged into a t-shirt before stumbling out the door after her.

Small and lithe as a dancer, Rika ran fast. Down the sidewalk outside their city apartment, around the corner, past the shops and the people who turned and stared. Jihyun caught up with her in the tiny park a few blocks away where they used to take her dog, Sally, to play. She stood with her back to him, arms crossed for warmth across her chest, rubbing her bare arms. Long, blonde hair blew in the wind that seemed to pick up with each passing second. A rumble of thunder in the distance had him studying the sky with worry. A storm was brewing, and he wanted her to come home.

As the first few drops of rain fell, Rika’s tears ran freely down her cheeks. Tentatively, Jihyun approached her from behind. A gentle hand laid upon her shoulder bid her to lean back against him, and he welcomed her into his embrace, breathing a sigh of relief. Face buried in her neck, he whispered to her, “I’m here. I’m not going to leave you alone. I swear on my life. I love you, my beloved, my– “

“Just shut up,” she whimpered, turning to press her face against his chest and pull him flush against her. “Just shut up and take me home. Take me to bed.” She stood on her toes to seal her mouth over his in a frenzied, desperate kiss. He stiffened at first– bewildered at her rapid change– then tangled his fingers in her hair, kissing her back with the same fervor. When she broke contact, she had another breathless request. “Show me how you love me.”

~

In the morning, she was calm and quiet. She rose before dawn and slipped out from beneath the covers, quietly setting about packing a bag with a few days worth of belongings. Along with her phone, she left a short letter upon the kitchen table in her whimsical handwriting and took her leave through the back door just as Jihyun stirred.

The space where she had been lying just moments before was still warm to the touch when he fanned his hand out over rumpled sheets to find her absent. He truly didn’t think anything unusual at first. Rika had a habit of waking before dawn to practice a morning yoga session or just sit with a cup of her favorite tea and soak in the silence. With a yawn and a satisfying stretch, Jihyun bent to pick up his shorts from the floor beside the bed and pad quietly into the bathroom.

When he made his way to the kitchen, he was alarmed to find the rest of the apartment dark and still. “Rika?” he called out, quietly, craning his neck around each corner as he turned on lights. Through the living room, the narrow hallway that led to his studio, his heart picked up in rhythm when there was no trace of her in any of those spaces.

“Rika?” he whispered, a tremor in his voice and his hands alike, his breath quickening with each step he took. In the kitchen, he flicked on the lights and his eyes fell upon her phone resting in the middle of the table, serving as a weight to keep the small piece of stationary from fluttering away.

A breath caught in his throat, his eyes welling with tears. “No…” He already knew what the note would say before he even laid eyes on it, but he read it anyway, his worst fears coming true.

Goodbye, my sun. If only your light had shone bright enough to chase away my darkness for good.   
-Rika

He staggered, catching himself with a white-knuckle grip on the chair to his left. He had a few guesses as to where she might have gone, but no solid proof. No way to contact her without her phone. She’d left no clues, no forwarding address. No way for him to find her. She effectively removed him from her life fully and completely, and in his grief, he called the only person he knew that could even begin to help him.

Jumin picked up midway through the second ring. “It’s early, Jihyun. Are you alright?”

Jihyun couldn’t speak. To no avail, his lips formed her name, but the sound was stuck in his throat. His strained silence told Jumin all he needed to know.

“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

Jihyun nodded numbly, sinking into the distressed wooden kitchen chair. Upon folded arms he laid his head, carding trembling fingers through his hair. He focused solely on his breathing until Jumin stepped in quietly and pulled out a chair to sit beside him.

“Where did she go?” Jumin asked softly, fingers trailing across her delicate, but hurried, handwriting.

Jihyun shrugged with a heavy sigh, tracing tiny imperfections in the wood surface of the table. “She wouldn’t have gone to the church. It’s too easy. She...she doesn’t want me to find her.”

“Have you called them?”

“No. It won’t do any good. She’s– “

Already on his phone, Jumin lifted a finger to signal silence. “Hello. I’m looking for Rika Kim. Did she come there this morning or last night, by chance…? Yes, I understand. If you see her, will you please alert me at once…? Thank you for your time…”

“I told you,” Jihyun muttered, face buried in his hands. 

“I’ll hire a private investigator. She can’t have gone far. What time did she leave?”

“I don’t know, Jumin. She was gone when I woke up!” Jihyun cried, fists pounding the table. 

Jumin’s grey eyes widened slightly, but he covered his friend’s clenched fist with a cool hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I!” Jihyun bit back, uncharacteristically irritated. Jumin understood and thought nothing of it, closing his eyes with a nod of his head.

~

Two days of searching, and there was no trace of her anywhere. Jumin hired not one, but two private investigation firms, who worked around the clock, searching far and wide for any traces of her they could find. It had been dark when she left, and even neighboring homes with security cameras were checked in hopes that they could at least find which direction she headed. But when they turned up with no further clues, the police determined that she must have slipped out the back of their home, into the night. There was absolutely no evidence of her departure. 

“Jihyun,” Jumin said over coffee on the third morning. “I know you don’t want to think about it, but you’ve got to understand that after forty-eight hours, the chances of her being alive are– “

“I know, Jumin!” he barked, color rising to his otherwise pallid complexion. The darkness under his eyes stood out in stark contrast to the lack of color on his cheeks; he hadn’t slept more than an hour or two since she’d disappeared. Jumin had cancelled all of his meetings until further notice, leaving Jaehee at the helm of C&R’s operations until they knew exactly what was happening with Rika. Three days in, and things were looking far too grim for anyone to have hope that she was– quite frankly– still alive. And if she was, what state was she in: mentally, physically, emotionally? Was she safe? Had she been kidnapped? Jihyun’s thoughts often turned dark, and he blamed himself more than anyone or any circumstance that involved her disappearance.

Jumin stared at his friend, his mouth set in a solid, thin line. His eyes, however, softened when he watched Jihyun’s own fill with tears. He knew he had to choose his words carefully, but he also wanted Jihyun to know that without self-care, he wasn’t going to be of any help to anyone. “Jihyun. You need to rest. You haven’t slept but a few moments here and there, and I think that’s just because you passed out from sheer exhaustion.” He pulled the mug away from JIhyun’s trembling hand and offered a gentle, reassuring hand upon his shoulder. “Please. I’ll stay here. Why don’t you go and darken your bedroom, put on some white noise, and sleep, my friend?”

Jihyun opened his mouth to protest, but realized with a slow, thoughtful sort of blink that his eyes felt gritty, raw, tired. With a deep breath, he felt his head spin uncomfortably; he’d been ignoring the signals his body was trying to send him, to tell him he did need to rest. 

He staggered as he stood up from the chair in his kitchen. Jumin rose, alarmed, and supported him at the elbow; a sheepish laugh from Jihyun filled the space between them.

“What would I do without you?” he wondered aloud, though more to himself than to Jumin; who knew, and simply led his friend into his bedroom and turned down the blankets, drew the curtains shut, and closed the door.

~

The call from the police department came not even an hour after Jihyun had finally closed his eyes. Jumin watched as his phone buzzed angrily against the side table pushed up against the arm of the couch, his breath catching in his throat along with what felt like his entire heart. 

He answered and released a heaving sigh by way of a greeting.

“Mr. Kim?”

It took Jumin a moment to gather himself. The weight of the officer’s voice was a heavy burden, and he knew straight away that it was devastating news. “No. He’s resting. Finally.” There was an uncomfortable silence, and Jumin swallowed against the dryness in his throat. “Did, did you find her?”  
“With whom am I speaking?” the officer asked brusquely; the sound of a pen against a hard surface could be heard tapping incessantly on the other line.

Jumin bit back, just as forcefully. “My name is Jumin Han. I am Mr. Kim’s lifelong friend. Perhaps you’ve heard of me in connection with C&R?”

The man on the other line stammered and coughed uncomfortably before replying. “Forgive me, Mr. Han. I’ve been instructed to not give anyone else information regarding Ms. Kim’s disappearance. But,” he paused, then cleared his throat. “There’s...we’ve had a body wash up on shore at the beach just outside of town. We’re pretty sure that it’s her, but we need someone to come and identify for certain. The timeline of her disappearance is in correlation with the decomposition of– “

“That’s quite enough!” Jumin shouted, feeling his stomach lurch, his vision greying at the edges. His heart thumped audibly in his ears, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.” He ended the call and hung his head in his hands; he needed to wake Jihyun, but dreaded the task, inevitable as it was. So he took a few long moments to gather his thoughts, to dry the tears that had crept past long, tired lashes, and stood. Slow strides took him to the bedroom where Jihyun slept soundly in the silent darkness, still dressed in his street clothes. 

Tears flooded Jumin’s eyes again at the sight of his friend who hadn’t even bothered to pull a blanket over himself. Face pressed into one of the pillows, he sprawled at an angle across the bed that he and Rika had shared, arms curled beneath his chest. The subtle rise and fall of his back told Jumin that he, at least, was alive and breathing. 

The bed dipped with Jumin’s weight as he lowered himself to sit, a comforting hand patting Jihyun’s back to gently wake him; he stirred with a deep breath and a quiet groan, turning to blink slowly at Jumin. 

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Not long enough,” Jumin said on a sigh, rubbing his eyes. “They’ve...found her. They need you to come identify her– “ he stopped himself before he could say body, but Jihyun knew.

He knew.

~

Though Jumin had borne witness to some of the emotions that Jihyun wrestled with during the darker days of his relationship with Rika, nothing could have prepared him for the moment Jihyun collapsed in his arms when they left the coroner’s office after seeing her. A surprised grunt, a gasp of air, a stagger, and he regained his footing, supporting his friend around the waist so that his head avoided the concrete sidewalk below. Jihyun’s knees buckled beneath him, the breath left his lungs, and he fell against his friend, completely and utterly helpless, hapless. Hopeless. Words came to mind, but he couldn’t spit them out, no matter how hard he tried. Into Jumin’s shoulder he wailed, he sobbed. He cursed God for taking her. He cursed her for being so selfish.

As they had sat and listened to the coroner explain how she had most likely taken her own life, that there was no sign of foul play, but that an autopsy would be conducted if they wished– No, please don’t. She wouldn’t want that– Jihyun thought his heart might stop beating. He felt the very oxygen sucked from his lungs and into some dark void of emptiness far from the realm of the living. How am I supposed to go on living, when all of my days were for her? Every beat of my heart, every breath I took, every thought was filled with her.

And now, with Jumin supporting his weight, he screamed against the lapel of his coat, gripping Jumin’s waist as if he were the only lifeline left; this is not my life this is not my reality this is not happening this is not– 

Jumin’s gentle whisper brought him back to reality just as the rain began to fall. “Jihyun.” A simple cadence of his name, affectionate and sympathetic. “Driver Kim is here.”

He’d never felt so hollow in all his life.

~

The next few days felt like some of the longest of his life; but they blurred together so that by the time he was able to catch up on a few hours of sleep, he felt like a shell of his former self. Harsh truths about his own identity began to surface, and in his delirium, he realized that he’d never been himself with Rika. He realized that somewhere in between the first time he saw her and even still– while he sat and sifted through old photographs in the wee hours of the morning– he wasn’t whole. He wasn’t an artist. He wasn’t a friend to Jumin. He wasn’t any of the things he used to take pride in.

He lived for her and her alone. And now that she was gone, he didn’t know how to keep living.

His father tried to be sympathetic, even agreeing to help with funeral costs before Jumin stepped in and declared that it would all be covered. Past guests from RFA fundraisers sent their condolences in the form of floral arrangements, food, and cash donations toward future events. Zen’s theater company arranged a tribute to her and sang during the memorial service; there wasn’t a dry eye in the overflowing cathedral. People packed in– there must have been hundreds filling the inside, and just as many standing on the lawn outside– who remembered her kindness, her gentle spirit, her love and acceptance of all people. Those who remembered Rika as a generous, hard-working soul who must have never had a bad day in her life, whose smile would light up a room and whose philanthropic spirit and party planning skills were second to none.

And while it warmed his feeble heart to see the outpouring of love and support for her, a cold realization dawned on him with each hug he accepted, each kind word spoken in an attempt to soothe and sympathize: none of them knew her like he did. He watched through a fog as people stood in line for a chance to offer solace, chatting idly with one another about mundane things– the weather, the upcoming holiday season, the political climate, their children– and suddenly his knees felt weak. Saeyoung happened to turn and see the color drain from his face and curled an arm around his waist in a firm gesture of support. Jihyun offered a small, apologetic smile in return and muttered, “I need to get out of here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Saeyoung agreed, then turned to the few folks who were closest. “Sorry guys. He...he needs a moment. Excuse us,” he said, guiding his friend away from the crowd, whose hushed murmurs of concern spread like a wave throughout the church. 

Saeyoung led him through a door in the chancel while the guests continued their conversations and moved to claim seats before the service began. Once outside, Jihyun slouched against the stucco exterior and exhaled a breath toward the sky; visible plumes of white curled upward, the temperature having plummeted since the morning hours. If he didn’t know any better, he thought it might snow. 

“They don’t know her. Not like I do. Saeyoung,” he said, the weight of his words a burden, indeed, as he implored the man to listen, “None of them. Not even you, or Jumin, or your brother...do you realize...that not a fraction of the people who are here would care even half as much, if she had shown them but a glimpse of the Rika I knew? The Rika who was so consumed with the blight of her own soul that it began to bleed into mine?” His breath was ragged; he wasn’t entirely sure how, but tears blurred his vision again, and his eyes burned. “She ruined me, Saeyoung. She ruined everything she touched. And now she’s gone and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it except collect the pieces of my heart that she hasn’t shattered completely and try to piece them back together. I’m so angry at her! She got to leave! She took her life without any regard for anyone else and left us to flounder in her absence!” He was screaming by the time he took a moment to suck in a breath, a plea to the heavens while he sank to the ground. Saeyoung sat beside him, a steady hand clamped down upon his shoulder. He pushed his glasses to the top of his head and dragged his wrist over his own eyes to dry the moisture that leaked from them. 

“I know, V. I do.”

“I don’t want them here. I wanted to say goodbye to her alone. To tell her everything I never had a chance to say.” Nothing more than a reedy whisper, his voice was lost in a sudden gust of wind that stirred some of the remaining leaves from their trees. “But..that’s not what she would have wanted. She’s loving this,” he said bitterly. “This attention. These people here, who are praising all of her good deeds, all the things she did right in her life. She’s left quite a legacy behind.” Too bad it’s all for show, he thought, but didn’t dare say aloud. His own venomous thoughts startled him, and he shook his head vigorously in an attempt to rid himself of the poison. 

“Isn’t that what we do, though?” Saeyoung offered, tentative, quiet. He shifted his position so that his legs were crossed and grabbed one of the errant leaves on the ground. One hand held the stem, the other pressed into different parts of the brittle leaf, satisfied with each crunch as he spoke. “When someone dies, I mean. We celebrate all the goodness they brought into our lives. We remember them for who they were, for how they treated others. We remember their smiles, their laughter. I mean sure,” he shrugged, avoiding Jihyun’s eyes. “We all have some darkness that we’re not proud of. Stuff we’re not going to show the rest of the world. And sometimes it slips out. That’s okay, I guess. But when someone dies, V...even if they selfishly take their own life…” he sighed. “I still want to remember all the good that Rika did. You know? Don’t...I mean, you did love her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.” His whisper was barely audible, carried away with another gust of wind that pulled the clouds away from the sun, dousing both men in brilliant, blinding light.

Saeyoung swung his face toward Jihyun, incredulous. “What did you say?”

Jihyun responded by tilting his face to the sky, squinting against the sunshower that fell upon his skin. Ice cold, jarring drops of rain soaked him to the bone in seconds. Saeyoung yelped and ran for the chancel door. “Are you crazy?! Come inside!”

But he remained, whispering her name over and over. A prayer, a mantra. A homage to her twenty-odd years of life. He felt her then, in the rain and the intensity of the sunlight. He felt her in the wind that kissed his face and sent a shiver to his very core. She surrounded him, consumed him. Held him in her arms and whispered her apology.

She whispered her love. She whispered her promises, empty as they were now. 

Be happy, Jihyun. For me. 

“No!” he cried, fists pummeling his knees. “Not for you! You took and you took and you took from me, Rika! You took it all!” His shoulders heaved with a noisy breath inward before he exhaled in another painful scream. Saeyoung remained in the doorstep, mostly guarded from the rain, a steadfast presence in case Jihyun decided to do anything dangerous. “I’m going to choose to be happy for me! Not you! ME! I won’t let you take from me any longer!”

Another gust of wind pushed a dark, ominous cloud back over the sun, but the rain remained strong, unrelenting. “V! Come inside!” Saeyoung shouted over the deluge. 

~

Long after the last of the flowers from her funeral shed their wilted petals, Jihyun sat alone in his studio, surrounded by his life’s work. Unfinished canvases; watercolor pieces, frayed and curled at the edges and piled atop bookshelves among cacti and succulents. Photographs strung up by twine and held with wooden clothespins, captured moments of days that he would never experience again.

For months, he had lived without her. And though he felt alone, he knew that his found family would drop everything and run to him; all he had to do was say the word, and they would be there. No questions asked. No pretense, just genuine love and concern. There was idle talk from time to time within the chat room of hosting a memorial fundraiser, but Jihyun conveniently bowed out when it became the chosen topic. He hadn’t been ready.

Jumin phoned him that afternoon as he sat in front of a blank canvas, considering the barren winter landscape outside the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. He answered just as Jumin was about to hang up. “Hello, my friend.”

“I didn’t think you would answer,” Jumin replied, leaning back in his leather armchair, stroking Elizabeth the Third as she slept in his lap. 

“I didn’t want to. I know why you’re calling.”

“Well if you’d prefer, we can rename the organization. Anything that helps get funds funneling back into some of the charities that have come to depend on us.”

Jihyun didn’t know how to respond. Instead, he dipped his brush into a spot of honey-colored paint and pushed it across his canvas. The seconds ticked by; Elizabeth the Third purred, Jumin sipped his wine. 

“Don’t.”

Jumin blinked and crossed his ankles. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t change the name. It’s the RFA. That’s how people know us. It won’t feel the same if it’s not the RFA.”

Jihyun couldn’t see Jumin’s smile, but he felt it. And for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to smile, too. 

~

ZEN HAS ENTERED THE CHATROOM  
YOOSUNG HAS ENTERED THE CHATROOM

Zen: Is it true???

Yoosung: I HEARD THE GOOD NEWS!!

JUMIN HAN HAS ENTERED THE CHATROOM  
V HAS ENTERED THE CHATROOM

Jumin Han: Jihyun, would you like to share with the others?

V: The rumors are true. We’re hosting another party. 

V: :)

Jumin Han: And since it’s been so long since our last, we’d like to have this one as soon as possible. 

Jumin Han: To be more precise, we’d like to hold it on the first of next month.

707 HAS ENTERED THE CHATROOM

707: But 

707: That’s

707: only

707: 11

707: DAYS

707: AWAY

707: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JAEHEE HAS ENTERED THE CHATROOM

Jaehee: Saeyoung, please. I had to scroll upward to find out what was happening. 

707: My bad!!! I’m just happy!!!! Did you see????

Jaehee: I did. I’m glad you’re ready to take this important step, V. We’ve all been worried about you.

V: Thank you. I’m sorry I caused you all so much heartache.

Jumin Han: There will be no apologies or talk of sadness. This is welcome news for us all. 

Zen: I can’t wait to start inviting guests. I might already have a few in mind LMAO

Jumin Han: Your enthusiasm is appreciated, Hyun. Our new party coordinator will be thrilled.

New party coordinator? Jihyun gasped, feeling his cheeks heat up. There came a lull in the chat while everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing: Jumin hadn’t mentioned the position had been filled– in fact, had never even mentioned that he wished to fill the vacancy. During their conversations, it was implied that Jaehee would take over that responsibility, not that he was actively looking for someone else.

V: ...you mean Jaehee?

Jumin Han: No, I mean Lucia. The woman I hired for the position. I’m surprised she’s not logged on. In face, I’m a bit disappointed.

Jumin Han: I asked her to be here today when we made the announcement.

LUCIA HAS ENTERED THE CHATROOM

Lucia: Sorry I’m late, Mr. Han! I was on a call with one of our potential party guests.

SAERAN HAS ENTERED THE CHATROOM

Saeran: Just finished her background check. She’s clear. Not one single black mark on her record. Unless you want to count the traffic ticket she earned back in 2018 for unauthorized parking.

Lucia: There weren’t any signs posted! I swear I wasn’t trying to break the law!

Zen: LMAOOOOOO

Zen: Welcome, party coordinator! I like your profile pic. 

Zen: Cute. ;)

Jumin Han: Hyun, please. This isn’t the time nor the place. Control your urges.

Zen:....

707: Welcome, Lucia! Hang on for the ride. I hope Jumin warned you about us. Mwahahahahahaaaa!!!

Jihyun took a moment to study her photo, to try and read her presence in the chat. Her energy made him smile. Though he’d only seen her type two sentences, something about her presence was calming, comforting. And when he zoomed in on her photo, her warm, honey-brown eyes stared back at him, shaggy brown bangs covering her forehead as she. He glanced up at his canvas then and it struck him that he’d just painted a streak of much the same color. 

His laughter filled his studio. Quiet at first, his shoulders shaking. It blossomed into a loud, boisterous sound that sent the birds outside his window fluttering away. On his phone, the chatroom buzzed to life in the aftermath of Saeyoung’s joke.

When he’d calmed himself sufficiently, he sent a message.

V: I’m happy to meet you, Lucia. I hope you feel comfortable with us.

Lucia: Thank you! I hope we can be friends! 

Lucia: Mr. Han has me on a deadline already. Jaehee was right about him…

Jumin Han: ...what’s this, Assistant Kang? Are you speaking ill of me to our newest member?

Yoosung: Uh-oh...

Jaehee Kang: No sir! I simply told her that much would be expected of her, since we’re holding the party so soon! I said nothing derogatory.

Lucia: She didn’t say one mean thing. I promise.

V: I look forward to the party. We should meet in person soon to discuss details.

Jumin Han: Excellent idea. I’ll make a reservation for tomorrow evening. Is everyone free?

Zen: Yep! Hahahha

707: Should be, unless something comes up.

Saeran: Like what, idiot? An emergency LOLOL campaign?

Yoosung: Hey! You never know when a guild member might need some extra man power!

Jaehee Kang: My schedule is open, Mr. Han.

V: Mine is too, Jumin. I’m looking forward to the meeting.

Lucia: Me too! See you all soon!

One by one, they exited the chat. For quite some time afterward, Jihyun sat in the silence of his studio, mixing colors and painting. Hues of gold, vermillion, lavender and rose blended together to create a sunrise. Soft, warm, but brilliant in composition. It was the first piece he’d completed since Rika’s death, and it came so naturally to him; his hands seemed to move of their own volition, eyes scanning the canvas as he worked. Each stroke was a labor of love, a cathartic release of everything he’d been harboring. 

When he was finished, he stood and began taking down Rika’s photos. One by one, squeezing each pin to release the photographs, the paintings, the letters they had written. Into a box, he placed each one, until the room was devoid of all traces of her. 

And when he fit the lid down over the top, he sighed and lifted it from the floor, placing it inside the storage closet for his art supplies. One day, he would release it all. He would purge his home and his heart of her presence once and for all, and move forward. But for now, he was content with condensing her memory to a small, inconspicuous space in his home. 

The soft white walls of his studio begged for new life. And he was determined to fill the void with hope. With light. With joy. 

With love.


End file.
